Heliology
by taxiphobia
Summary: Running into Uchiha Itachi was the last thing on her mind. Kidnapped as bait to lure Naruto and Sasuke, Sakura is internally and lovingly tortured, confused by his true motives and her own feelings. [ItachixSakura][R&R!]
1. Prelude & I

Heliology:  
_Study of the Sun_

-taxiphobia

Disclaimer: Naruto isn't mine, as always.

Notes: First angst fic; Contains short prelude and first chapter; Prelude purposely written incompletely; With manga chapter 366; Also, to prevent confusion, Sakura is referred to as 'the girl,' and Itachi, 'the man' in the prelude.

* * *

_"I can see it in **your eyes**, that you're so sure."  
_Prelude:

* * *

"Ah, Naruto-kun," said he, the man, "how unexpected." 

A solitary flash of crimson.

"I thought…"

Sounding in the distance: a thousand chirping birds.

"Sasuke!" he cried. (The man snickered.) The former escaped without a fight.

"Sasuke!"

-

"Eh? Naruto-kun?" The girl paused. " S-'Sasuke'-kun?" Now turned, "Wait for me, Naruto-kun, Sasuke-kun!" She ran.

-

The girl shook. "You…you're not…" stepping back, "Why…"

The man closed his eyes, his face away from hers to prevent any harm, and, his fingers running through dark brown tresses, he contemplated _very_ deeply on the next action. A plan, involving the girl greatly, he supposed, and benefiting both his desires _and _the Akatsuki, his cloak-and-kunai(1) organization, quickly came to mind.

"Yes, _why_ is it," sardonically continued the man; a tight grimace formed. "—that I had the perfect opportunity to kidnap Naruto-kun, but I didn't after hearing him scream my brother's name?"

"How should I know!"

("It must be the weather," he added, staring upward.)

"Th-that's enough of you!" her voice trembled. Her body, with cold sweat glazed upon skin, legs especially, shook. An ineffable emerald stare abolished these and internal fears.

The girl sought to kill.

She would _do_ something.

And should she **die ** trying…

She charged forward, "I'll kill you!"

…it no longer mattered.

The man blinked, somewhat dissatisfied with the livid reaction to a mere tease, or he thought perceptively, and considering the girl was a _woman_, her feelings grew into a ferocity to avenge and kill.

He, die by a woman's hand? Shocking.

He sighed disapprovingly at the throngs of chakra the girl had channeled to her fists.

And then—

Scarlet intermixed with fragments of black.

Falling.

Foaming.

Fighting—among wind and thunder and fire from the distance.

Finally,

Red and black(2).

Prelude: End.

* * *

Prelude endnotes: 

(1)cloak-and-kunai - Actual term, 'cloak-and-dagger.' But 'kunai' works better, no?

(2)Red and black – Referring to Itachi's Mangekyou Sharingan (the genjutsu)

Will you continue reading? Please do!

* * *

_"What a shame we've all became such **fragile, broken things**."_  
Chapter I:

* * *

"_What_ is _that_?" inquired Kisame _emphatically_, brusquely poking the young kunoichi's cheek. Standing from squatting to look his partner in onyx eyes, and stepping away from whatever he (Itachi) was holding—or carrying—rather gently for his nature—the shark nin went on; "Let me guess, she's a prostitute from," looking downward, "—Konohagakure? Same city symbol as you! Didn't know you were into this sort of thing." 

"She looks delicious," observed the darker half of Zetsu.

Silence ensued, rising the probability, maybe confirming, the theory of the gaudily dressed girl being a present for Zetsu—in his case—or an actual prostitute—in Kisame's.

"She is a woman from Konoha, Haruno Sakura, comrade of Uzumaki Naruto and Sasuke," said Itachi, "Running into her, I thought she could be of use to lure the two."

Standing nearby, unbeknownst to the three men, was Pein, overlooked as always when in shadow, brooding about as usual to his nature. Itachi's statement, the artful ingenuity of it—he was surprised no one, particularly when members were abundant, thought of the idea sooner—, that he remarked;

"Afterwards we eliminate them, I presume."

"Exactly."

Astonished by the fast paced approval, Kisame and Zetsu were mute.

"I doubt my brother would care, however."

"It's worth a try."

Zetsu politely interrupted the exchange of words with a raise of his hand, "Itachi, you have something planned then?" asked his white half, referring to the younger Uchiha.

"In a way."

"So," spoke Kisame. Negligent as he was with Itachi for _intending_ to leisurely stroll about the hideout's outdoor milieu, and kidnapping a girl who's supposedly related to those troublesome two, and then scheming in a matter of seconds—intimidating really—; he spoke harshly with a tightened lip, "What do you plan to do with the girl?"

Having forgotten about Sakura, Zetsu and Pein, less notably than the former, jolted.

-

It was dark. The lack of sufficient illumination masked the cleanliness of the room (previously the late Sasori's), for there was no window, nor candle, nor lamp, nor light. The first objects that assumed a distinct presence before her, Sakura, were a mahogany table and a framed picture of an animated puppet atop it.

And then, slowly but progressively, images pertaining to the encounter with death she had had, it seemed, long ago, slipped into her mind.

Her eyes accustomed to the pitch black after vaguely registering items of the bedroom, Sakura managed to question audibly to herself:

"Where am I?"

A shuffle.

A minuscule candle, unseen due to its size and the dark, was lighted. The doer waited for its starting flickering to cease before speaking. Whereas, Sakura lay mortified in her bed at first sight of the shark nin's infamous garments.

_Where was she?_ She knew that now.

_Why was she here?_ Villainous ninja, or those who deserved being stripped of the title, she contemplated, often revealed their scheme, if more dangerous than usual, to the innocent victim. She did not know why she was where she was, at least at the moment.

"You woke up a day earlier than Itachi predicted. Either you're a strong girl, or he did it intentionally, so he wouldn't kill you," said Kisame.

Sakura gulped.

"Yep, we have a lot of plans for you," he carelessly sighed, leaning back a bit in the chair he sat on.

"P…plans?" Sakura feebly whispered.

"—but he probably wants to explain them to you himself. Uchiha Itachi: master of torture."

With that, he rose, gave her a quick glance, sighed once more, and walked to the exit. There in that spot, before leaving, he explained the dangers—death, the punishment—of escaping the 'prison,' asking too many questions, and of not obeying the leaders'(1) or Itachi's words and commands.

The explanation finished, the single light blown out, the door bolted and locked heavily with chakra and copiously arrayed with paper bombs, Hoshigaki Kisame was gone. She was, once more, in an eerie darkness which her eyes had yet to inure to this second time.

Sakura spent her time doing so, during the four days that passed. Never once during the course of this time, which was an eternity to her, was she informed, as promised, of the reason of her abduction, although wholly incorrect contemplations formed. Never once did she drink or eat a morsel of food. Never once, rendering her in a _dying_ state, did Sakura catch a glimpse of sunshine or another flicker of light.

If her existence was of such important to the sordid fiends as Kisame implied just a few days ago, then why, she wondered over and over, why was she being tortured so? Why was she deprived of all her strength, and brought several times to suicide in the desolate room—as though she even could—, the fear of leaving heavily upon her, and brought to question _herself_ in such a twisted mind game?

They were murdering her, acting as spectators to her rotting self.

Did Sakura exaggerate? Of course she did. But she was losing all sanity, what with issues of rescuing Sasuke, her love until even now, and the one who brought her to this.

There was an unexpected savior from this torment on the fifth day, however: it started with a low, two soft beats upon the door.

Who better to enter than her kidnapper, disdainfully a blood-relative to her Uchiha Sasuke…the only one left besides him, himself! With a lamp hanging from his left hand! And a tray of food and water!

She certainly wasn't thinking. Sakura wanted to cry, burst into those all-too-familiar tears. But, no, not in front of him. Instead, ravenously, she ran toward the man, grabbing whatever she could, and ate the food as a wild animal might.

Oblivious to the girl, Zetsu and Kisame monitored her—they preferred not calling it 'spying'—from time to time, this one _by far_ the most entertaining scene.

"She could've killed Itachi!" commented Kisame, laughing scornfully after witnessing Sakura's sudden charge.

"Yes, and look at her," said Zetsu's white half, his black half continuing, "she's all torn up!"

-

Itachi, never once experiencing an inkling of out of placement in Sasori's old room, among the familiar dark abyss only his eyes could penetrate, watched, lamp still in hand, his tortured soul(2) with eyes of indifference.

I: End

* * *

Chapter I Endnotes: 

(1)leaders' – Plural possession; The two leaders of the Akatsuki, Pein and Tobi (Uchiha Madara/Obito, I'm betting it's the latter), despite Kisame not knowing of the second leader. The authoress wrote it this way because she wanted to.

(2)his tortured soul – Referring to Sakura as Itachi's tortured…person. Itachi is not calling himself tortured.

First angst fic! It's quite different from the Naru-angst fics you see around the fandom these days (I hope so) involving Sakura. It's always (well, not _always_), 'Sakura is depressed. No Sasuke. Cuts. Bleeds. Emo-ness. He returns!' Uhh...no. So don't give me any sh!t about this _not_ being an angst fic. The 'internal torment' theme is as angsty as you can get, and it's pretty hard to depict in words.

Next, if you are to review (please do!), suggestions, ideas, requests, etc., etc., are greatly welcome. I'm aiming to respond to each and every one of them...like a nice author should...save those I _can't_ respond to. You know what I mean (the anonymous ones).

Finally, I apologize if my Itachi--as well as the other Akatsuki members--are out of character, if the plot feels rushed, for my inablity to write a longer chapter (this is a two-in-one, bear in mind), and if my usage of words is far beyond your comprehension...er, I mean, for anything else that irks you (like this Author's Note. When will it end? Will this arse of an author ever shut up? It's torturing...my...s o u l.) Teehee.

But despite everything I say, I love you all for reading. And I'd love you even more if you reviewed.

The length of Chapter II depends on the feedback I get. Just FYI.

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. II

The door opens. Light, luminous and glorious, in a single brilliant spectrum, streams in. In its wake, darkness dissipates. There he is, visiting her, seldom, yet steadily in its own pattern, always there when she needed him least, with a tray of food in hand, when she was hungry least, and a glass of some claret fluid—medicine—when she was thirty least, never uttering a word; standing, gazing, breathing. There _she _is, listless, drifting thoughts vanishing, lying, staring, breathless.

He gives her the glass first. She gulps it down as though she were thirsty. Food comes next. She eats as though she were hungry. She finishes, gazes at him, as though confused, though never admitting so, as if perplexed on how to perceive his being—evil or not?

He hardly notices the indolent gaze before standing and turning and walking away. She continues. He turns again;

"What do you want?"

The man asks a question, not a demand, not out of spite, no hidden meanings, out of pity, it would seem. Can she tell? Tell what he hints with such a toneless voice, an apathetic countenance?

The girl cannot, and is left with no choice but to…

"I want to leave."

…answer simply.

* * *

_"It was a **lie **__when they smiled and said you won't feel a thing."  
_(Heliology, Chapter) II:

* * *

Burning, rotten, putrid stenches of shriveled and dead flesh emitted from the massacre's spot. Sakura hadn't expected this, not this melancholy summer day. She recalled her hands grabbed, them running down hallway after hallway, almost in secrecy, averting any passing person, and finally out, where Sasuke could be, where Naruto was, where the sun shone, amongst alluring spring-summer foliage. 

Her hand still in his, she was further led through luscious, verdant forest, sparkling sunshine—her eye candy—to a sudden clearing, covered with fallen sakura blossoms. He stopped, so had she. His eyes searched the area, she mimicked the action.

Footsteps.

She was told to hide, and to stay out of _their_ sight, but not his. Sakura willingly obeyed, hiding behind a nearby bush, frustrated and frightened for the untimely intruders. She saw an army approach—one hundred or so men. They exchanged few words with Itachi. The leader of the former (she squinted to see) noticed his cloak.

A fight started; she couldn't tell why.

He held nothing back, he had no reason to.

In her hiding place, Sakura witnessed the lowest, most gruesome, most heartless of murders. He would kill and kill; she was stunned and stunned, eyes dilated, and her body shivered all over as prior to just that morning.

_Nani?_(1)

Unexpected, surprising, shocking, downright sickening.

She had imagined, when freed for the first time from her homely prison and seeing the outdoors basking in the joys of nature, and sunlight awaiting her, and, if she managed the bravery, the pleasure of fleeing the Akatsuki and _him_—she couldn't see herself escaping while he killed now—with all the information learned, the enemy's location and plans.

_But not this._

She had seen—watched—Itachi's technique. A slash, a death. What made her fear him more was that he used no particular or special jutsu to expend his chakra. It was pure skill, completely natural, and Sakura had never experienced, as a pathetic spectator, which was normally her post, such a thing.

Her faint plea was all too late, "Y-yameru…" _S-stop…_"Please, stop."

Ignoring this, rather, taking no notice of this imploration, or better yet, returning to his former self, in Sakura's eyes, and not _bothering_ with it, Itachi walked on, compelling her to follow with a single onyx glance.

Still stunned, she flinched, refusing to move. Her head spun. Her body shivered. Her muscles tightened to the brink of tearing and breakage as the red and black-cloaked man stepped nearer and nearer. There was death—closer and closer—who had had the chance to slaughter her similar to the day's murders, possibly worse, since the two were related in a peculiar sort of way, through Sasuke.

(He turned away. She stiffly stood and followed.)

This surprised her. As of yet, she wasn't dead. Haruno Sakura was not dead. A miracle, true, but a fact also, and even more so when…

"Where…?"

Studying her surroundings, Sakura observed that wherever Itachi brought her to was composed not of the familiarities of Akatsuki's current hideout; no hazel grass, nor dirty patches of sticks and twigs, no brown—as she presumed she'd be taken to—but of a distant and obtrusive cerulean and emerald. Second, what should have been more prominent, and what stared her in the face, was an uninhabited village.

No. It wasn't empty.

A crying, lost child ran into the main street's center. His mother chased after him, her hair wild, clothes tarnished and torn, cast a contemptuous look at Itachi, and carried her son away, shushing him to no avail.

More women and more children peered out their houses' windows to watch the reviled scene. The children's mouths were open in silent awe, while their mothers, sisters, and neighbors glared at _him_ in the same deceitful manner.

The pieces fit.

Sakura remembered.

Had he no shame? He _killed_ the entire village's army (she envisioned the army returning from a victorious battle), mediocre as they were in comparison, still an abominable action, and now returned to satisfy…bloodlust?, an encore?, money? Perhaps the infamous Uchiha murderer (at the thought, Sakura imagined Sasuke in his torment; all too familiar to her eyes) was under orders, sent to satisfy whomever's desired number of casualties, being everyone but the women and children.

She could not stand it; "Why are we here? I," pausing, "I hope you're not planning to…"

Itachi halted. The soft, morbid silence of the town strengthened in his hush of footsteps. One or two rodents abandoned their home beneath rubble. He did not turn as Sasuke may have—did he ever?—proving his coldness surpassed even his indifferent younger brother's.

Dazedly, Sakura opened her mouth to speak again, to elaborate a little more, notwithstanding her current fears and feelings, only to be silenced by a gesture of his hand.

Still without facing her, "Planning…" he echoed. "I'm not planning anything, in fact," now turned (_she_ stared), "—wouldn't you rather be outside than a _prisoner_ in _darkness_?" What was between a smile and a grimace crept to his lips, meeting her bewildered eyes—_A sneer_, she thought.

_How strange._

"I do," hesitantly said she, "But why here?"

"Hn," Itachi murmured, returning to walking and ignoring the townspeople.

In a few quiet minutes, the two reached the acne of the expected lush hill seen previously, Sakura had looked forward to it, overlooking a breathtaking ocean, or was it just a lake, or a pond?—isolation brought visual exaggerations. Facing the sun, the entirety of the sight may have overwhelmed her.

Not knowing why, towards this falling sun, she produced tears to match the waters. Not knowing why, she fell on her knees. Not knowing exactly why, Sakura felt happy and grateful. She didn't know why. She wanted to know why.

She didn't turn. She didn't move. Numb. She was numb and guilty. The girl was starving. For food, for freedom, for…

"You're crying," _he_ said.

"Th-this isn't an illusion, is it?" wiping her eyes and standing, "Have I looked into those eyes?"

"No."

Sakura asked whether he lied.

"No."

"Oh," stepping closer, looking down, "I see—"

-

_I felt it._ One sting, one dart, one needle, some sharp thing pierced my left hand. I looked down, saw one rusty senbon, and thought (aloud) that it was dipped in an ample amount of poison foreign to me.

He never looked at me. He looked about him. Spotting something, he said something—I could care less what. Out from behind rocks, I saw the child from before, the one led away from the streets, before he ran away without a penalty. I heard Itachi say that the senbon was meant for him, as though I thought otherwise, ensued by a "Gomen-nasai,"(2).

And then I thought I heard him say, I can't swear on it, he said, "Arigato," _Thank you_, afterwards, almost in the same manner Sasuke had.

_He_ _grabs my hands_ now, not at all forcefully, though lacking the necessary gentility. I am confused on the matter of his motives, and what he will gain; whether I'll be killed, like his family and those innocent people, or spared as, I'm afraid to say, Sasuke was.

My lungs gape and gasp for air. My body is completely frozen, 'numb' for this separate reason, and I can't scream or thrash about, I can't bring myself to, as I may in a similar situation.

I believe I am crying now, for the world is blurring and I'm not going blind. _He_ doesn't pause when this hot liquid—inevitable, unplanned and again, for completely different reasons—rolls down my cheeks, I'm assuming he noticed it, but continues fumbling with my hands, tearing a piece of his cloak off, wrapping it around and around, with the most serene face.

I want to correct him in his mistake; covering poison does nothing to help, but I can't. I'm cold, shivering, going insane. Its hit my system, it's running through my blood, it's absolutely hopeless. My mind settles on the probability of my being spared/saved higher than the other. I can't tell why.

For the first time in a long time, those times usually involving Sasuke…kun, my thoughts leap miles into the future:

What if, hypothetically, I don't die? What will happen then? What if he saved me? Why do I even care? Isn't he just returning the favor? Why should my opinion change just because of this unimportant event? Why should I forgive him for anything?

But he did apologize, didn't he?

-

"Didn't…you?" Sakura whispered, her eyes closing.

He scooped her up, again uncharacteristically. It was not in his nature to do so, Itachi would, instead, all the fun forgotten in the realization, have let her go to pine in newfound 'freedom' (he knew that that was what she associated 'escape' with). He could not, however. Sakura, the reason why she remained alive, existed to suffice essential desires of entertainment—for them—as well as to assist in the capture of the Kyuubi boy and eliminate Uchiha Sasuke—for Pein.

But to Itachi…?

Was that seriously her original purpose?

Or was it…?

Itachi laid her down, directly outside the hideout's entrance. To be sure, it was dangerous; He jeopardized Akatsuki's location. His entire entity was dangerous; it seemed so, if not contrary.

Sakura opened her eyes. In her sleep, she had dreamt of him, not Sasuke, surprisingly, and, in her consciousness incessantly thought of him. He was a puzzle. She had grown, in his brother's absence, to loathe puzzles and enigmas of any sort. Though she couldn't tell _why_, she despised him, a fact, she prayed, _never_ to change during the course of _her_ lifetime.

He faced opposite her. It was a perfect chance to escape, despite her drowsiness, feebleness, and throbbing hands. The poison! She was alive! How had she forgotten the cause of this loss of strength in her unhappy ponderings?

A stir.

The familiar face appeared from shadows to greet his partner. He stepped forward, hooded, in uniform, and armed with his Samehada(3), all in all a terrifyingly statured S-ranked criminal. Kisame started with asking how the day was—memories flashed—where Itachi went to and was it successful? To Sakura, the whole interrogation, never about her or a useful subject, was dully trivial.

Itachi answered punctually and precisely, vexing Kisame, who was forced to unnecessarily decorate his questions with details. Whether or not Sakura's awakening was sensed by _him_, changing his answers to be so short, Kisame did not.

"What about her?" continued the shark ninja, (Sakura promptly shut her eyes and feigned sleep) "Anything interesting happen?"

("She's a disappointment as a medical ninja.")

"A _what_? Speak louder."

Glancing at the girl, "Sakura," (she winced) "wouldn't talk."

"You didn't torture her with those eyes of yours, did you?" Kisame questioned.

"No."

But the former was skeptical.

"I promised against it," Itachi finished.

"Did you? You 'promised' against bringing her out, too."

Itachi was mute.

"Just remember," Kisame sighed, "—just remember she's_ your_ responsibility now, so try not to kill her."

"I won't."

"I mean, if she wants to leave so bad, you take her out; Personally, I think it's wrong _not_ to bring her out once in a while. And if she's about to die, you feed her. You _always_ have to be together. Never take her out of your site."

Itachi smiled. "Why would I?"

"—No one else would care, you know," spotting the small smile, "Be serious Itachi. Without her, this whole thing is pointless."

"I know."

"Although it is nice seeing _you_ do all the work."

Itachi said nothing. He merely nodded, as Sakura saw, at the tease.

"Well," said Kisame, "bring her in before someone sees."

-

All the while, Sakura had internally writhed—doing so externally was out of the question—at the mention of her fate, her life, _her_ future, all in the hands of that one man. She learned plenty during the disdainful conversation, the knowledge rendering her dumb.

She hated it, abhorred him, detested the secrecy of this 'plan.' Sakura was certain she was being used to lure Sasuke and Naruto, if not the entire search party, and, though she didn't know of them exactly, Sasuke's party Hebi.

Sometime after the conversation ceased, in waning moonlight (for it was already night), she was lifted up once more, lain down, and locked away. She sought to escape, if only she would move. If only she weren't so stunned. If only she weren't so drained. If only…If only…

But, no. Certainly, no. The world begged her, no.

No, no, no.

No words could express, then and there, the secret agony of her soul as she sunk into this companionship, foreseen as inseparable, much against her petty wishes.

II: End

* * *

Endnotes: 

(1)_Nani? –What?_

(2)Gomen-nasai – I'm sorry

(3)Samehada – Kisame's sword.

…As if you didn't know those already.

Sorry for the one week delay!

Oh my, that chapter was packed. I tried hard with the transition from third to first person, so I hope that wasn't so abrupt. The plot is progressing along nicely (I think, feel free to correct me), and you know, I had fun playing with words and Sakura's simple first person, present tense narration. Anyone like that? Want it in the next chapter?  
I will gladly take any suggestions or criticism.  
So, who likes Konan? (hint, hint)  
XD  
I love you, dear reader(s).  
And I'd love you more if you were to review.  
Umm...please?


	3. III

Sakura laughed.

Yes, _laughed_.

She found that slightly-confused look, which symbolized extreme perplexity, upon his face simply chuckle-worthy, and amusing, especially since it was at the words, 'love,' and 'Sasuke.' She didn't know _he_ didn't know. Everyone knew. Even the people of Konoha she wasn't familiar with knew.

So she laughed.

And it was the first time in ages she felt any emotion remotely close to induce laughter.

_

* * *

"__**We're**__ the new face of __**failure**__, prettier and younger__…"  
_(Heliology, chapter) III:

* * *

Now _Kisame _laughed his harsh laugh, while Zetsu (both his sides) remarked rude words. They were spying again, laughing again, and enjoying the days again, all because of Haruno Sakura. The 'doll,' as they referred to her, livened up the hideout, reminiscent in some ways of the old, and presumed dead by most, Tobi.

It was strange.

Even the stoic and somber Itachi had grown, dare she say it, soft since the arrival of the girl and his official job of custody. He visited her often, notwithstanding his teammate's jeers and teases, as though they ever affected him. He watched her attentively. He even, at the mere mention of her name, smiled.

Konan had seen it all. She was not jealous of another girl amid a virile group, a popular girl, but intrigued.

Truly, intrigued.

She found the doll impeccable and to her liking. It cried after all, and where she resided, where Akatsuki hid, the dingy, dismal, and dour place, which seemed to darken day by day, there was no room for the pathetic substance. Where Akatsuki were, there was no room for tears, or crying, or any kind of sadness, or any kind of hatred, or any kind of love, not even with Pein.

But that rule was, unconsciously and beautifully, broken by that _doll_, Haruno Sakura.

"You," Konan had said that day, addressing the Uchiha after spotting him exiting the doll's room; "Why are you so fond of her? You're always with her."

Smiling at the keen observation, "With whom?"

"I'm not blind, Itachi. The cherry blossom girl. Your so-called 'doll.' What the others have been raving about. Everyone's favorite play-thing."

"Sakura," he corrected, gently closing the door from behind.

"Is she asleep," inquired the blue beauty.

"Yes."

Although she respected and admired him, Konan was urged by Itachi's response, for a strange reason, to turn away hastily, and walk away haughtily, dismissing what she saw were newly developed feelings for the girl;

Only to return after he leaves. Only to stare at the looked door. The perilous door. The blank door. The empty door. The open door.

-

Her fingertips gently glided across the door's mahogany. It was a cool, fresh breath of relief in her darkness, besides Itachi who visited occasionally. Sakura didn't know why, but it seemed _he_ was visiting her more often, and it seemed she had grown more accustomed to these arrivals. It seemed her actions were more controlled. It seemed that they were talking.

They were pointless, meaningless, irrelevant words, which were meant to be laughed at. He never questioned what she said. He never asked for the location, which she knew was his mission, of Sasuke or Naruto. _He_ instead listened intently.

It confused her all the more.

Thoughts brought headaches.

Still, they continued to involuntarily linger to _him_. She couldn't stop it. It was enjoyable yet detestable, unstoppable and controllable, a complex contradiction, everything imaginable all at once.

Amidst these thoughts, Sakura's fingers slid lower, her hand delicately grasped the copper knob, and, without her consent, twisted the object. Her body pushed forward. The door, once the impenetrable barrier between she and what was thought to be freedom, fell to the ground.

Her fingers then touched nothing but air.

"_Nani_?" She asked aloud, walking forward.

-

"Pein?" looking about, "Where are you going?" Konan's bare feet tap gently on the ground. She wraps herself with the thick sheets twice, and afterwards approaches her oppositely dressed partner.

No, more than a partner;

A lover.

"Can't you sense it?" he asks, only to answer, "Someone is coming.

"Or," pausing to retrieve a fallen flower, "some_thing_."

"Yes." Konan says, stepping closer, as though impatient; "Should I accompany you?"

"No, I'll go alone—"

"But," she disrupts to be of help, "—if it's who we think it is, wouldn't it be right to have Itachi come along? It was _his_ job, originally."

Pein says nothing; neither does he look Konan's way.

"Pein…"

"I know."

Konan's mouth opens again. She wishes to prolong the whit of a conversation somehow, but Pein is gone and has left. Such is his nature these days.

-

Everything grew brighter and brighter.

Sakura wondered when this particular tunnel would end, and just where the tantalizing lights would ultimately lead to the outside.

Outside, with freedom.

Without Akatsuki.

Without him;

_Without Itach—_

Her thought, and in a way her confession, was interrupted by a new, unforeseen sight;

A brilliant room, filled with an artificial sunlight, met her and the tunnel's end. To be sure, there was light—so dazzling that her mind froze for a minute at most—light here and light there, light streaming from cracks and crevices and corners, but not light from any fire or window.

Now _she_ was intrigued.

Sakura stepped forward. She stepped on scattered paper, crushing one or two fallen and miserably artificial flowers. Looking down, she examined the dealt destruction. Looking up, a blue head had materialized. It turned.

Sakura faced a darker beauty than she; mysterious, with an almost (it seemed) haughty disposition and as graceful, seen in the way she floated across the room, as she was beautiful. The woman—_no longer a girl_, she thought—even had the audacity to ignore the obtrusive intruder while _she_ drifted about retrieving her possessions.

"My name is Konan," spoke the eldest, finishing with the task.

Sakura was speechless.

Konan pointed to a cloud, positioned over her heart, on her infamous cloak; "I've heard of you, doll," approaching the girl, "and you've caught my interests.

"—but the Kyuubi has been caught," she continued, with a voice no louder than a whisper.

"Naru—" Sakura gasped.

"So you remember his name. Now, who was he fighting with during your kidnap?"

"Sas…No, not…"

"It doesn't matter. What's more important is the Kyuubi. Finally, our dreams will be fulfilled."

Sakura gazed cautiously at the woman. She couldn't fight. She didn't remember how to. How long had it been since she fought? How long had she been here?

"—which means," said Konan, growing closer and closer, "_you_ are of no use to Akatsuki anymore."

The girl blanched.

* * *

(Screw endnotes.)

Whoa, cliffhanger! XD I wasn't sure how to phrase the last part; Konan isn't really a type of person to hold a kunai to your neck (correct me if I'm wrong), which is what normally happens in Naruto. And yet, despite that, you can tell manga-intelligence was used in this chapter.

Also, there was a lot of foreshadowing and metaphors. I tried to stray from Sakura's problems, which you're probably sick of, and focuses on background a plot things.

I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much for reading, reviews will be appreciated, loved, and responded to, and suggestions/critical criticism are highly welcome!

Naruto (finally) makes his appearance in IV.

_And a very special, special thanks to brand-spankin' new editor Imperial Mint. She is fucking awesome. XD Nice 'working' with you!_


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